Say Uncle
by ProtoChan
Summary: Qrow's in trouble. The question is, can he get out of it?


Summary: Qrow's in trouble. The question is, can he get out of it?

A/N: Please don't kill me for this.

()()()()()()()

"You son of a bitch!"

Those words banged up against the walls of the Branwen-Ebi household as Qrow tried and failed to get away from his assailant.

He was supposed to be safe here.

He was fucking suppose to be SAFE here, safe from the greatest of his weaknesses!

"It would be best to give up now, don't you think."

But he wasn't, and he was starting to get the sense that he never would be.

Still, that didn't mean Qrow was going down without a fight.

"Not a chance."

Qrow wiggled and pushed against his assailant until he had the free space to knee him in the stomach. That one movement granted Qrow his freedom, at least temporarily.

But now he had to figure out how to keep himself safe.

Qrow's room wasn't the most well stocked in makeshift weapons, and it was just his luck that Qrow's escape had only cornered him further into the room. However, Qrow wasn't called one of the best Huntsmen of his age for nothing – he'd get out of this, of that, he was sure.

Quickly, as his assailant started to capitalize on the advantage he had, Qrow grabbed a pillow and poised it in his hands right in front of his chest.

Hey, if Oz told him one good thing in his life, it was that the best offense was sometimes just a good defense, and a pillow could be one hell of an at-the-ready shield in a pinch.

The assailant came at Qrow from the space between his bed and the wall. If Qrow didn't make it out of this, he'd absolutely be cornered and defeated in no time.

But Qrow wasn't going down without a fight.

Using his own momentum, Qrow pushed the pillow into his assailant and jumped onto the bed, rolling towards the open side that would lead him to freedom. From the other side, his assailant cursed, but much to Qrow's dismay, he didn't fall down.

By the time Qrow had landed on the other side of the bed and made it back onto his feet, his assailant was running in his direction, the pillow he had once used now made into his own weapon.

He had to make it to the door.

If he could only make it to the door, everything would be alright.

So Qrow dashed for it.

And so did the assailant.

Neck and neck, they raced for the door.

Still, Qrow was so sure he'd win.

But then his assailant threw that pillow.

As much as Qrow hated to admit it, that was pretty clever.

The pillow on the ground slowed Qrow down by only a second, but that second was all it took for his assailant to cut off his escape.

Oh no…

A deadly gleam sparkled in his assailant's eyes, matching the sinister grin on his face.

Qrow tried to back away, to come up with another plan to get away, but his assailant didn't give him the chance. With superhuman strength, he pounced over the pillow and pinned Qrow against the wall. Though Qrow squirmed in a final attempt to get under his assailant, he merely lowered himself with Qrow, clinging to him the whole time, until they were both on the ground with Qrow straddled between his assailant's legs.

It was all over.

With an anguished cry, Qrow struggled against the man, though he knew it was in vein. His assailant offered him no escape, and that wasn't about to change any time soon.

And now, he would attack.

Qrow was left breathless, with only half-pant shouts granted the ability to audibly leave his mouth.

This was hell.

But what was worse was how there was only one way to end this.

His assailant knew that just as well as he did.

"Something you want to say?" he asked, far too smug in his question for Qrow's liking. Still, he relented in his attack, albeit only slightly, but just enough to let Qrow speak.

The last thing Qrow ever wanted to say what his assailant wanted to hear.

And yet he was going to do it.

"Uncle," Qrow huffed, unable to keep the sigh of relief out of his voice that his torture was at last over, despite how much he wanted to keep it away.

His assailant picked up on it, smirking victoriously as the singular word reached his ears.

Shit. He'd never let this go…

Asshole…

…Why did he marry this guy again?

"That's my name," Clover said, still smirking that detestable smirk of his. "Don't wear it out."

"I hate you," Qrow snipped. Now that he had finally surrendered to his husband's demands, he figured Clover would have the decency to release him, but Clover seemed content to say the least at the prospect of keeping him pinned down, his fingers at the ready to continue their attack at the first sign of provocation.

"I don't think so."

"Oh?"

While taking care to keep Qrow pinned down, Clover removed a hand from the floor, and placed it a few inches from Qrow's face. Qrow knew that move well – Clover was about to explain – point by point – EXACTLY why Qrow was wrong.

Smart ass.

"You HATE that your, or rather, our nieces told me you're ticklish," he said, placing one finger up, "you HATE that you challenged me to try to tickle you," he continued, raising yet another finger, "and you HATE that you failed, but you don't HATE me." Just as Qrow expected, with that final point came a final lifted finger, and now the three of them were wiggling in the air and booping his nose one after the other. "As a matter of fact, you LOVE me."

Qrow took it back – the tickling he had just been subjected to wasn't torture – THIS was.

He didn't respond to the claim, only growling. Clover seemed to take that as a 'yes,' and kissed him on the cheek.

"Well," Qrow said, supplementing his answer, "if I didn't, I probably would've kneed you in the crotch instead of the stomach."

"Thank you very much for that, by the way."

Finally allowing himself to smile, Qrow pressed his luck. "If you want to keep it that way, you'll let me out of here."

And Clover finally did a bit of relenting of his own. "I suppose I can."

Clover helped Qrow get up, kissing Qrow's nose and holding them close together once they were on their feet once more. He led them out of the battlefield that was their room, both of them exchanging laughter and wordless promises over how they'll clean it up tonight.

"You know," Qrow said, as the door behind them shut, "I have to wonder now, are you ticklish?"

"I am," Clover admitted, "but only in one teeny, tiny spot on my body. Now the question is, can you find it?"

Qrow smirked at him. "Guess it's now my turn to play the assailant, and find out."

And Qrow knew he would. After all, he had a lifetime to do so, and one hell of a man to find it out with.


End file.
